Every Mile of Us
by limefirefly
Summary: Society is collapsing around the world, and tensions rise as the Nations struggle to keep it in balance. Romano assumes that it will just turn into another outbreak or war, and though he dreaded the idea of one, he would never have guessed what would happen next. Including: Various Nations; with Spain and Romano 3rd person POV
1. Anything But

It should've been just another regular day. By now though, Romano wasn't quite sure what 'regular' meant to anyone anymore.

The sun beat down on his auburn hair, weaving its way through the multitude of dark tangles and into his scalp. He placed his hand on the back of his head, feeling the warmth immediately travel through his arm at the touch. It made him feel sick.

At first sight, one would think things were actually _normal_ around here- the sun was sitting high above the world, a gentle breeze blew past each and every living entity it could lay its hands on, and even a few birds could be heard calling out somewhere in the trees.

But things _weren't_ normal. Not one bit. Romano knew that. He couldn't place his finger on what was different, but something definitely seemed _wrong_. He turned his head to the man working on the crops three rows down from him, and scoffed. Even from his spot in the field, he could hear faint whistling coming from the man's lips. The tune didn't sound like anything familiar.

Suddenly the sun's rays felt overwhelmingly hot, and Romano felt his stress melt and swirl into a mess of confusion. He tipped his straw hat forward so it kept the light out of his eyes, and let it fan out in front of his face. It didn't help. He could feel his head heating up as the day started making that sort of _humming_ sound- _like cicadas_ , the Italian thought to himself- as the world began to turn blurry and somehow more distant than before.

Out of pure instinct, Romano found himself panicking and stumbling over to the young man who had his back turned, still whistling that tune Romano couldn't recognize. Through his swaying, fuzzy vision, he could see the man turn, eyes widening, revealing huge green pools of emeralds as his brown curls bounced against his cheeks. The last note of the tune he had been whistling stilled in Romano's ears, suspending like a broken bell as he watched all color fade away in a trillion specks of darkness.

* * *

"Lo-"

"Lovi"

The ceiling looked blueish and spotty when Romano opened his eyes. The sound of a fan could be heard from somewhere, but all other noises seemed to be extremely muffled. Already he felt the warm, bitter pink of embarrassment rise in his chest as he saw who was sitting next to him.

"Lovino, are you alright? That was quite a fall you took. Good thing I was there to catch you!"

The man smiled and winked, making his left eye look greener than before. He stretched and moved closer to Romano's bed.

"Come on, why don't we get out of here, _sí_?"

Romano sat up abruptly and began to cross his arms, but beforehe could even slouch in dismissal, a huge pounding sensation rocketed through his head. He winced and brought his hand up to his ear, trying to drown out the pain somehow. Two firm hands on his shoulders gently eased him back to his pillow, and he opened his eyes to a reassuring smile framed by soft, wavy brown locks. He frowned and pushed the hands away, now crossing his arms across his chest.

"I don't need help. Just... give me a moment."

The young man's smile never wavered, and it irritated Romano. _What would he have to face to frown for once? Stupid bastard._ He thought as the man left the room, the door clicking lightly. He sighed and closed his eyes, rethinking the events that had just happened.

This wasn't right. He should be at home with Feliciano, not an over-optimistic, air-headed Spaniard that held both too much and not enough self-regard for himself. Not in a chilly, unwelcoming building with pristine white sheets and the constant smell of _sick_. He already missed the taste of pizza and pasta.

It had been so easy to run away from problems. Leave everything in the dust, and make sure to keep enough distance between to prevent another broken heart. Then you'll be just fine. That's what he thought, at least. Now the world seemed to be falling away bit by bit, and he was defenseless against it. He couldn't learn how to love. All he could do is grasp desperately at the fabrics of the ones he cared about, begging them not to change or waver.

Nowadays, where it was so easy to betray your close ones, regular people were turning into _animals_ , or, something like that. Though the air was free and the sunlight still kissed the treetops, the people inhabiting the world were in a frenzy. They all had their different individual reasons for acting the way they did; some were finally tired of the regular way of life- the Lather-Rinse-Repeat of it all. Others were hiding in fear from each other. Some thought now was a time for survival, others thought it was a time for regrowth. There seemed to be a multitude of thin lines between hope and despair, and if one was broken, yet another splurge of chaos would be unleashed on society.

The Nations were doing all they could for their people, but without much trust between parties, most of them couldn't get to everybody all the time. Germany had said that most of them were living in constant worry that yet another war would start, and that this time they'd be defenseless and weak. "Foolish humans inflict pain on each other. Can't they see what's right in front of their eyes?" Romano heard him say to Prussia one day. Luckily, only little disputes broke out between people, and none had clashed across borders yet. Still, Romano had Spain set up farms and underground bunkers at his place, and other countries like Russia and China made sure to reinforce their military.

The problem was, with all the chaos, people and Nations both made rash decisions. _They don't think and, in the end, people die_. Romano thought. There had been a few extra casualties in the past four days; at least 790,000 worldwide that he could remember; including ones of natural causes. The Nations would keep in touch about current events as usual, but most of their meetings were grim and everyone always looked sort of... _tired_ now. America was catching a cold, and had a hard time breathing when speaking at meetings. Often times, Romano saw Canada look at his brother with such concern that it made his stomach knot up while he would rethink his relationship with North Italy. He himself was doing alright; at least he assumed so since he could still pick fresh tomatoes with Spain in the-

Oh.

That's right.

Why else would he be here?

 _I guess this is what it feels like for a Nation to watch their society collapse right in front of their eyes._

He didn't want to know what would come next.


	2. Stilled Forces

"That's just how things are, Lovi. Everyone's out for themselves now."

Spain had taken Romano out of what he now saw was a local hospital, and they were sitting against an old abandoned house, heads tilted back so they could see the sky fade in color. It was nearing nightfall, and Romano wasn't ready to close his eyes, fearing somehow that they wouldn't open again. He looked over at his friend, who had a distant smile slightly pulling at his lips. Spain was clutching what looked to be a few papers in his right hand, which was marked with white knuckles.

"Tonio, put those papers down. You're going to crinkle them if you keep squeezing them like that."

A single bird flittered across the pale pink sky. Spain chuckled and shook his head. "No I won't." he said, his hand tightening around them. They looked quite wrinkled already, as Romano watched creases form down the middles. He reached over and tried to snatch them out of the Spaniard's hand, but Spain's reflexes were no match and he swiftly pulled away. Romano scoffed and punched him in the arm, only before seeing that for the first time in a _long_ time, Spain was _frowning_. Not just holding a neutral expression; something was definitely bothering him.

Romano furrowed his brow and spoke sharply, leaning away from Spain. His fingers curled into the soil behind him.

"What is it?"

Spain stayed silent for a moment, his eyes fixated on the sky. Something different seemed to be glazing over his eyes, but the Italian couldn't tell what. A shot of sudden worry pierced through Romano's chest as he began to realize what his friend wasn't telling him.

"...'t is from the hospital, isn't it? ...About me."

The Spaniard stilled completely for a beat, before giving a slow, tiny nod. If Romano wasn't looking so carefully, he wouldn't have noticed such a small gesture any other time. His expression changed drastically, as fear began to set in. Spain sighed.

"They told me," he finally smiled. It was a sad smile, but the corners of his mouth were, without doubt, turned up. "You still have a bit over ¾ of your population left."

Romano broke his stare at Spain and looked at the ground, not taking much time to process the news. Finally, he spoke. "Way to word it so optimistically. ...If you're gonna tell me that I'm on my road to my own grave, you better be straight about it." Even his own words scared him. He could feel a rush of sadness and emotions begin to surge towards his eyes, but made sure to stop any tears from flowing. Better to keep those locked up for now.

Something snapped inside of Spain. Nothing big, but something big enough that he raised his voice in a moment like this.

"You're _not_ going to die, Lovino."

Romano looked up and saw Spain turned towards him with an intense look in his eyes. He was frowning again, but this time with such tension that it made Romano feel almost uncomfortable. There must have been a startled expression on his face, because after a second of hearing nothing but the wind in the trees, Spain's whole body softened and his grip on the papers loosened.

"It's going to be okay, _mí amigo_. I won't let you get hurt again. I promise."

He scooted over to Romano and wrapped an arm around him. Romano didn't resist, but he felt sick to his stomach.

* * *

It was only three days later that an emergency World Meeting was held. Spain had been taking care of [a reluctant] Romano for the past few days, making sure to notice every little thing he did. Romano would often sense him watching while he slept or ate lunch. It annoyed him a ton, but he let his friend do it- for both of their sakes.

America started the meeting as usual, but soon enough he had a coughing fit that lasted too long for him to continue. Germany took over, speaking strictly and slowly to get the message out. It had only been almost a week since the last World Meeting, but Romano could already see how things had changed. England and France were surprisingly attentive, picking up everything Germany was rattling about. The Nordics and Baltics were sitting in their usual corner, but each of their attitudes were different. Finland had a flat expression on, and his attention was pointed straight at Germany. Romano thought he looked like a guard dog or something. Iceland and Norway looked relatively bored, but still looked up once in awhile. Sweden and Denmark were leaning forward, elbows on the table. Sweden seemed to be murmuring under his breath, but Romano couldn't tell what he was saying.

The Baltics were much different. Lithuania, the eldest, was shifting around in his seat, taking notes every once in awhile. A distressed expression was set on his face, and he was often looking down the table at Poland, who was twirling his hair looking constantly unamused. Estonia was squinting through his now cracked glasses, swearing under his breath every time he couldn't tell what Germany was pointing at. Little Latvia was trembling as usual, and checking the windows every so often as if someone was watching.

No one in the room looked any sort of happy.

Romano finally brought his attention to Spain, who turned when he noticed he was being looked at and smirked. He pointed at Germany from under the table and swirled his other finger around the side of his head, mouthing " _loco"_. He didn't know if Spain was trying to make him feel better about Germany's long-winded speech or if he was just plain bored. It had finally reached the point of the meeting where the Nations discussed _very_ serious matters. Romano thought that most everything was relevant since yesterday, but he was sorely mistaken when Germany sat down with his hands folded as he twiddled his thumbs, and Italy stood up.

 _The potato bastard is finally done?_

" _Ciao_ everyone, thank you for coming to the meeting! As most of you know…" Italy's hands dropped to his sides and he stopped smiling. "People in our countries are fighting a bit. Actually, heh, 'a bit' would be an understatement. I don't mean to scare any of you, but if we don't do something about this, war and death might be all we'll ever know for who knows how long." He looked to the ground. "Our humans are turning on each other- even _more_ than before- and we need to take action. The world that we live in today is built upon millions and millions of people; some very good, while others…" Germany's eyes widened at the Italian's pause and his thumbs froze in place. "Well, I'm sorry to say that others are not so much. This place that we make up; it's our _home_. We need to take care of it if we don't want things to change. If we don't want all of our mistakes in the past to get the better of us again. I know I'm not too great at giving speeches, but I bet if we have hope, we can get past all this! Right, Germany?" He turned to Germany, who was flustered at the sudden attention on him. He sighed and muttered, " _Ja."_


	3. Quickly, Quickly

The next few days passed by quickly. No one had time to blink, as everyone was too busy preparing and helping people in their land. England said he had found some families hiding out in a bunker near the coastline. "I told them to come to London, saying there was enough food and water for months. They refused though, so I left."

He paused and scratched the back of his neck. "A few days later I got a call from one of the men there. His voice sounded so… panicked, as if it were the end of the world. He went on and on, spitting things like 'they're dead' and 'weren't there' into the phone. I didn't know what to make of it. By the time he was done, he hung up and I couldn't even get a single word in. And… I can't help but feel that it was all my fault. We're supposed to take care of our people, and I probably let multitudes of mine _die_." Romano watched him bring his hand up to his head and brush it through his hair. "I'm sorry." Though all of them were there, he seemed to be directing his comment towards America, Canada and France, and not the rest of the Nations.

Of course no one was prepared for what was to come next. America had been getting worse, even under Canada's desperate care. He looked unnaturally pale at the next meet, and had some sort of mask covering the lower half of his face. None of the countries said a word about it.

"I haven't seen him smile in a bit." Canada murmured when speaking to France after the meeting. His expression was always flat now and his eyes were full of worry. France's expression faltered, but only in the slightest, as he leaned against the wall and crooned, "Ah, _mon amie_ ; there's no need to fret about Alfred. Arthur and I will take good care of him now, _oui_? You did a fantastic job, Mathieu! Better to give yourself a rest." He winked and nudged the fellow Nation.

The younger man looked hurt- almost _insulted_ \- by his friend's response. He looked at France pleadingly and opened his mouth to say something, but sighed and shut it. He walked over to England who was balancing statistics at the long wooden table of the meeting room.

"Arthur, do you think we could get more Nations at America's place? Too many people are dying and getting hurt, and…" He turned to where America was reading a comic book with Prussia. "I don't want him to… get _worse_."

England set his ballpoint pen down and gazed over at his brother. Something distant and troublesome crossed the gentleman's face as he saw America laughing between coughs, his voice muffled by the mask. Canada looked away.

After a moment of silence, England softened and spoke. "Of course. We'll send out as many as we can. I'm sure some of the Micronations can take the job, and I don't think Switzerland or Belgium are set anywhere."

Canada exhaled. He was slightly relieved, but he knew it wouldn't be enough. At least not for him.

"Okay, as long as they'll treat Alfred's people well. Liechtenstein and Netherlands should be able to manage their areas too, eh? Maybe we can send Austria and Hungary over also-"

England cut him off and shook his head. "Other Nations have their own places to take care of too, you realize. We all have our own responsibilities, and I know how much you want Alfred to get well again, but we can't put others in danger for a single cause. We've got to work together."

Canada's hope shattered in a single blow and he shifted his eyes away from the older man standing next to him.

"I… understand."

* * *

A stranger was complaining to Japan when the rest of the Axis Powers approached.

Asia had been relatively isolated from the rest of the world, but they still had their fair share of problems. At World Meetings, (which were occurring much more frequently than they ever had before), the Asian Countries would mostly keep out of conversation and simply listen intently the majority of the time. None of them had gotten a real chance to converse with other Nations since before the disputes.

"Apologies."

Japan bowed to the stranger and handed a faded pink parasol to Taiwan. He strided over to Germany and Italy who looked more than happy to see him, but extremely worn out and anxious. Gray dust floated around him as he nodded and smiled in his usual way: small but sincere.

"I assume you all haven't been in much better shape than we have?"

To this, Germany grunted and Italy gave a nervous laugh. He brushed his curl back, to only have it bounce back into place, and closed his eyes.

"The whole world's definitely been better. But hey, we both know it could be worse."

He trailed off and furrowed his brow. It seemed all of them were immediately drawn back to all of the past wars and bloodshed and pain they had to suffer through and watch. None of them spoke for a moment.

Germany chimed in to contribute to the conversation. "We came here to catch you up and possibly ask for some... favors. America's been a bit unwell lately. He's been wearing what I believe is a respirator mask for about 3 days now, and has an awful cough. All of the madness has taken its toll on everyone, it seems. All have been accounted for at each Meeting so far, and luckily no one has gotten… terribly hurt." He didn't want to think about any further possibilities.

Japan soaked up the information like a sponge, even though he was well aware of most of it already. Tuning out the conversation, Italy was watching Taiwan pick flowers off their stems and place them in a weaved basket while South Korea fed horses and oxen near a run-down barn a little ways away. They both looked healthy and bright, though their clothes were a bit tattered. Italy looked down at his own uniform and noticed for the first time how worn and mud-splattered it was. He frowned and ran his fingers through his greasy hair.

 _It's sort of weird how things can change in such a short amount of time. I don't know if I should be scared or unsurprised…_

Germany called him over with a wave.

"Yes, Commander?" Italy saluted and smiled, even in a time as bleak as this. He almost heard Japan let out a silent sigh.

"Japan and a few of the other Asian countries agreed to help the other Nations. We discussed setting up Taiwan and Hong Kong with the Baltic Nations, and China would take care of England. South Korea, Vietnam and the rest would stay here." Germany preferred not to call most of the Countries by their human names. However, he had rare exceptions for Italy, Japan and Prussia.

China walked up, balancing a clay jar in each hand. "We figured now was high time to start helping out fellow Nations." Italy ran over to the older country. "Ooh, what've you got in those jars, Yao?" China smiled and cocked his head. "Rice! It's pasty and white and it'll keep for a while. We've been saving rations lately."

 _Good. With so many people fighting over food, it's relieving most of Asia has stocked up._ Italy thought.

Germany nodded. "That's a good idea. Be sure to mention this to everyone at the next meeting. We don't know how long we can keep coming together to discuss. It's better to say what you need to then rather than wait and regret it."

China pursed his lips. " _Shí._ I agree."

Something grim and stony crossed his face that Italy didn't find a liking to.


	4. Losing A Balanced Fight

The next meeting was nonexistent. America was claimed by Canada to be too weak to call the countries together, so Germany dismissed everyone for the day. Some of the Nations seemed hesitant to go back and ignore the situation as a whole, but Germany insisted that they wait for America to get well again.

"We should leave no man untold. An extra meeting would be a waste of time"

Italy was reluctant, but said nothing to his friend. He glanced at Japan, who was across the room adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves. Italy made his way over to him and watched Germany walk away. He didn't know where the German was planning on going. Italy turned to the shorter man next to him and examined his appearance. A whiff of dirt, sweat and other scents Italy couldn't distinguish were clinging to Japan's clothes and hair. Italy shifted to look at Japan's sleeves. His cuffs and hands were stained with grime.

"You have a lot of dirt under your fingernails, Kiku." He tried to sound somewhat sympathetic. Japan didn't even flinch at his friend's comment. He adjusted the last bit of sleeve to his liking, and turned to Italy with a half-smile.

"You do too."

Japan strided away to catch up with Germany, leaving Italy alone in the now empty meeting room. The meeting room that should've held many more meets to come. That should be alive (or as alive as it could be) with Nations from all over the world, discussing plans and sharing ideas; all to keep their people alive. To keep themselves alive.

Looking back on it, Italy knew how selfish it sounded. To only be working this hard, not for the people who had lives and families of their own, but for themselves; immortal beings that could only be snuffed out by the fall of their own nations.

 _But… Us Nations have to matter in one way or another, right? Without us, the humans would be nothing. Right? Even though we've been living far longer than any human has, and seen much, much more than any mortal being has on this planet… We still deserve the right to fight for our lives. Right?_

 _Ludwig… Kiku… My own brother… They all matter very much to me._

 _They matter._

 _I… I need to fight for them. That's why._

 _That's why!_

"Kiku! Kiku, wait up!" Italy waved and smiled his usual smile; the one before the collapse. He didn't know what good it'd do to act the way he did before, but a little happiness wouldn't hurt now, would it?

* * *

 _(Earlier; after Germany had finished telling the Nations to disband…)_

Upon hearing the news, Spain frowned. His curly locks bounced against his eyelids as he looked to the ground, making it hard for Romano to see exactly what expression he was making. He scanned the room to take a look at the other Nations that hadn't left yet, and took Romano by the hand. Romano was quick to resist, but Spain had a tight grip that prevented him from wriggling away.

"Hey, what's the big idea, bastard?"

Spain's expression didn't lighten. Romano suddenly felt very unprepared for whatever the taller nation was thinking. The Spaniard lowered his head.

"Let's go, Lovino. We have work to do."

Romano jerked his hand away and swiftly pulled it out of Spain's grip. He held it high behind him, and his expression hardened into a bitter twist.

"What, do you mean the tomatoes? We pick those every day, you idiot! What are you making such a big deal about?!"

Spain looked up and brought a strong arm down to Romano's other hand. Romano's eyes widened and he began to backtrack on the chilly marble floors of the World Conference center. His shoes squeaked against the surface, and the remaining Nations turned their attention to him. Spain tried to compose himself, and smile like usual.

"Lovi, we're drawing attention! I'll explain everything on our way back to my house, alright?"

Romano stopped struggling and turned to the towering Spain.

"We're going to _Spain_?!"

Spain lightened, but his grip stayed firm.

" _Sí_ , I'm sure you'll enjoy it. We have loads of _tomates_ there; much more than you have in South Italy."

The back and forth between the two continued for a moment longer, until they both decided it was best to leave and not draw any more attention to themselves.

On the way to Spain's place, Spain explained the situation in a roundabout sort of fashion, leaving out what Romano considered to be crucial details for him to know. However every time he questioned and pestered Spain about it, he wouldn't ever get a straight answer, leaving him quite in the dust. Spain endured all of the punches thrown at him along the way, even though he knew they'd leave a dozen or more bruises later on.

"No, Lovi. Everything's going to be fine. We just had to get out of there before any disputes broke loose or something. You know?"

Romano didn't know. How could his friend act so stern about the situation before, but act so casual about it now? He was sure he felt some sense of fear in Spain's tone when he was arguing with him in the conference room. He couldn't put his finger on what, though. In this situation he felt clueless and stupid and excluded and he _hated_ it. Why wouldn't Spain just be honest with him?

Romano picked at the grass beneath him. The sun was lowering once again, and Spain had told him that he was going to be harvesting tomatoes, as the food supply had been growing shorter. The Italian could still feel Spain's presence in the air though, and he knew his friend wouldn't stand to have him stay alone for long.

"How're you feeling?" Is what the Spaniard had asked him once they had arrived at Spain's house. Romano averted his eyes away from the taller Nation, who was looking down at him worriedly. He thought about the question for a moment. How _was_ he feeling? He hadn't really payed much attention to his own health amongst all the recent chaos, but the fear of dying out or getting hurt or _losing_ people he cared about never left. He kicked at the dirt beneath him.

"I think I'm doing fine. I'm not a child anymore, so you don't have to keep babying me."

Like usual, he didn't actually want to be left alone from the Spaniard, and began to rethink his statement. Spain just laughed. "Boss Spain can tell when my Lovi's feeling unwell. Don't worry, I'll make sure you stay as bright and healthy as this here:" He held up a ripe tomato and dribbled it in his hand. Romano noticed how scratched and scarred it was from all of the yard work. He glanced at his own hands, which were not nearly as rough as Spain's were, and he felt guilty for slacking off when working. He looked up at the other Nation.

"Look," He refrained from calling him something crude. "I'm sorry for all this. You shouldn't have to try so hard for someone... like me."

He felt his cheeks flush and fill with a harsh, warm scarlet and looked away. He didn't want to see what sort of face Spain was making, but he already knew without taking a single peek. A tanned hand fell into Romano's greasy auburn locks with just enough intensity to stop his heart for a second, but also enough gentleness to slow his nerves immensely.

That was when Spain told Romano he was going to pick tomatoes, and he watched him disappear behind a crooked white fence.

Now, with his friend gone from his side, Romano felt utterly useless and afraid. Not the sort of liquidy, slow fear that crawled through his bones every second since the hospital visit; but a buzzing sort of surge of a fear that hit him all at once and multiplied, leaving him frozen in time with nowhere to run.

It was a weird sensation, but so very frightening that he forgot how to breath for a minute. He couldn't pinpoint exactly what caused it. Whether it was being without Spain and the other Nations, or the fear for his own mortality again.

 _How long do Nations truly last?_ _How long does it take for one of us to heal? How long will it be until things are back to the way they used to be?_

Thoughts raced through Romano's mind as he lay on the spiky grass, the last sliver of sunlight disappearing behind the horizon.

He realized how impatient his thoughts suddenly seemed, and cut the internal babbling short. Spain returned with a basket cradled in his arms. Orange tomatoes; which were not nearly as red as they should've been; could be seen peeking over the rim of it. Romano's panic spiked as he saw the sight in front of him. He sat up.

"What the hell happened?!"

Spain smiled sadly. "There were only enough to fill most of the basket." He paused. "The crops were trampled and most of the remaining tomatoes were green. I guess the people here got a little hungry while we were away all that time. I got to save these few, and they're not even ripe yet."

Romano stayed silent for a stretch of time, staring blankly at the sad tomatoes in the basket. A billion thoughts popped up in his mind and ricocheted off of the single subject of an orange tomato. He wasn't sure when he'd be ready to comment on the matter until Spain had given a considerate, but questioning nod and walked back behind the house.

He knew very well what was at risk now. _Well that's it, we'll either die out with our people or get sick enough to drive ourselves to insanity. Which one do I prefer?_

It was then that, somewhere in the distance, a great _boom_ rang through the land and a cloud of dust and other things could be seen flying up into the air. The situation was almost surreal, and the sound didn't seem like anything that was supposed to be heard in real life. It was hard to tell how far away it was. The sky turned an ashy brown and all the birds ceased to chirp. The phenomenon was much too familiar to Romano, and any other Nation would've said the same.

And so the first bomb had been dropped.


End file.
